


There Has To Be A Lesson At The End

by who_won_the_race_back_home



Series: she said we're doing pretty good if we can just get out alive [1]
Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV)
Genre: Friendship, Gen, Trans Male Character, rip hunter is a transsexual disaster
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-31
Updated: 2017-12-31
Packaged: 2019-02-25 20:31:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,602
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13220658
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/who_won_the_race_back_home/pseuds/who_won_the_race_back_home
Summary: On a Very Special Episode of The Time Idiots: Sara accidentally finds out Rip is trans and Rip learns the true meaning of friendship.





	There Has To Be A Lesson At The End

Rip hears the door to the med bay open and begins to panic before he even sees anyone step through. His head snaps up and it’s Sara. She has found him shirtless, sitting on one of the examination chairs, sticking a syringe into the small bit of fat near his navel. Her thumb is wrapped in a towel, but his brain doesn’t process that she might be hurt.

“Miss Lance!” Rip yells, turning away as quickly as he can in his hunched over position with a needle stuck in him.

“Shit, sorry!” she says. “I just cut my finger on a crate in the cargo bay, but I uh–I can come back.”

Sara stands in the doorway seemingly frozen in place and mumbling another apology. Rip turns his head back to her, and makes a face urging her to leave. She finally snaps to and backs out of the room, palming the door shut with one more sorry. Rip finishes his shot and leaves the syringe for Gideon to dispose of.

“Gideon, would it be foolish of me to pilot the ship to three minutes ago to prevent this from happening?” Rip asks.

“Well Captain, it would not create any detectable changes to the timeline, but it does seem like it would be simpler to just speak with Miss Lance,” she replies.

“Yes, I suppose so. Thank you for never telling me what I want to hear, Gideon,” he says.

“I just aim to be helpful, Captain.”

“I know,” he says with a sigh, pulling on his shirt.

Rip spends the rest of the day plotting the team’s next move, which conveniently also allows him to avoid Sara completely. He hasn’t planned beyond that, but he hopes that things work themselves out and that he never has to have a direct interaction with her again. Which to him, would be easier than telling the truth. But later, after everyone else has moved to their bunks for what they’ve designated as the evening, Sara lingers back, heading to Rip’s office and knocking on the door frame.

“Sara,” he says, looking up from the mess of papers scattered in front of him.

“I just wanted to say sorry again for walking in on you earlier,” she says. “I wasn’t trying to creep on you or anything, I swear. Just wasn’t thinking when I saw the door closed.”

Rip leans back in his chair and rubs at his temple, tossing the paper in his other hand back onto the pile.

“No, I know you were not ill intentioned. Thank you,” he says, turning to look at her. “How is your finger?”

“Oh. It’s fine. They just can bleed a lot,” she says, holding out her thumb, a thin red line across the top.

Sara pauses for a long moment, brow furrowed. Rip can tell she is trying to be careful with whatever she is about to say.

“I know it’s not really my business, but, are you diabetic or something? I had a grandma who was type 1, had to do shots like that everyday,” she says. “I only ask because, if this is something that could impact you in the field, I just wanna know.”

Rip stands and moves in front of his desk so he has proper room to pace, arms crossed and looking anywhere but at Sara. Normally, her frankness was refreshing, but this line of questioning only ruins his plan to avoid the topic until he undoubtedly gets killed by Savage and can avoid having this conversation for the rest of eternity.

“No, I’m not diabetic,” he says after a few more moments of silent pacing. He sighs. “I’m transgender.”

“Huh,” Sara says. “That is...not the answer I was expecting. But okay, cool.”

Rip stops his pacing to look at her. She doesn’t seem confused, or disgusted, or even moderately taken aback. Instead, she’s making the face she has when Martin or Ray tells her a fun fact that she didn’t know before, mildly amused and impressed.

“I won’t tell anyone, if that’s what you’re worried about. I’ve kept a lot of secrets in my day,” she continues. “Y’know, I dated this trans guy my freshman year of college for a couple months. He was a sweet kid. I should see what he’s up to.”

Rip turns back to his desk, resting his hands on it and leaning, his forehead grazing a particularly perilous stack of newspaper clippings, a pile of potential clues to Vandal Savage’s location. This went better than expected, but that did not change the fact that it was information that could be exploited.

“It’s not a secret, it’s just–” he says, cutting himself off.

“It’s just none of our business. No, I totally understand,” Sara says.

She turns to leave and makes it to the doorway before Rip crosses the room and stops her with a small tug on her shoulder. She turns back to him and he looks more vulnerable than he has since the first time she walked in on him watching the holo-message from Miranda and Jonas.

“No, that’s not–I mean, yes, it isn’t any of your business, but you lot are particularly bad regarding that social norm anyways,” he says with a small smile. “I’ve told you before that the less you know about me the better. Any information you have about me, the greater risk we’re all in if one of you is hurt or captured by Savage and his cronies.”

Sara looks him in the eyes, giving him a look he can’t quite decipher, one of her more unnerving qualities.

“Listen, I think you should have realized by this point that any of us would die before we’d say anything. And me? I’ve been through worse than what Savage or any of those assholes could do,” she finally says.

“Be that as it may, Miss Lance,” he says, turning back to sit at his desk.

“Like I said Rip, it’s not my, or anyone else’s business. But I would hope over the past few months you’ve realized that we’re not just your team, we’re you’re friends. As much as any of us are capable of being friends. And if the only thing keeping you from telling everyone else is a fear that it’ll be used against you or us, fuck it, dude. Just say it. Because none of us will give you up that easy,” she says. “Actually, it’s kind of insulting that you think we would.”

She gives him a smug smirk that he does his best to ignore.

“You make it as if it’s just that simple,” Rip replies.

“I’m not saying it’s simple. It’s a tough choice, and it’s yours to make. And legit, no judgement. I will keep it a secret if you need me to. I’m just saying if the reason you haven’t told us so far is that you’re worried about us knowing anything about your life, then maybe reconsider.”

Rip doesn’t have an answer. He pulls out a bottle of half-finished scotch and two glasses from the bottom drawer of his desk, a more simple solution to the problem. He tips one of the glasses towards Sara, an invitation she accepts, settling in the chair opposite his mess as he pours.

“I haven’t had people to tell in a long time. Honestly, I don’t think about it being something to tell people much anymore,” Rip says.

He takes a large swig from his glass, finishing it in one go, leaning back in his chair and staying there, staring at the ceiling. Sara sips her scotch slowly, kicking her feet up onto Rip’s desk. He grimaces at the sound, and she gives a wide smile in return.

“I’ve been this–” he continues, motioning towards himself. “–person, version of myself, for almost twenty years, significantly longer than who I was born as. What others see when they see me is more or less what I want them to know. There just hasn’t been a need for anyone else to be informed of the particulars. Not since Miranda, really. I told Mr. Hex at one point, but god, that was–it feels like ages ago.”

Sara finishes her drink and sets the glass down next to Rip’s. Grabbing the bottle she pours another for him, leaving her own glass empty. She gets up from her chair, walks over to Rip, and kisses him on the top of his head. He goes rigid at the contact, but she doesn’t seem to mind and doesn’t comment.

“For better or worse, we’re your friends now, Rip. You chose us, and you’re stuck with us,” she says, heading back towards the door. “Have a good night, captain.”

Rip relaxes his shoulders and takes a sip from his glass, nodding at her.

“Yes, you as well. Thank you, Sara.”

She gives him a small salute and heads off into the halls. He gives her a small, find smile she doesn’t see.

In the morning, before detailing the next mission, he tells the rest of the team matter of factly. There’s a bit of confusion, and some mild shock from Martin (in the way that he was always mildly shocked over anything he didn’t already know). Rip entertains no questions.

“If you need to know anything about this, you have access to all the information in the known timeline. Gideon can assist you,” he says.

He catches Sara quietly chuckling to herself. She mouths the word “friends” at him. Rip rolls his eyes and takes his place in the captains chair.

“Strap in everyone. This might be a bumpy ride.”

**Author's Note:**

> I was on vacation for two weeks and literally spent 3/4 of my time thinking about headcanons for Rip Hunter: Transsexual Disaster.
> 
> As someone who is relatively old in trans years (especially for fandom) and also a transsexual disaster, this is something I unsurprisingly have a lot of feelings about, so, feel free to come yell with me about them over at angrypedestrian.tumblr.com. Also, if you too are a stealth trans in your day to day life and want to come yell about that, I more than welcome it.


End file.
